Phil Goes to Vegas
by Inudaughter Returns
Summary: Arnold tries out for sports. Grandpa Phil, meanwhile, goes to Vegas to win back the deed to the boarding house after Oscar loses a copy of it.
1. Chapter 1

Arnold wore a big grin on his face. It was springtime and the sports teams were recruiting. Arnold had a multicolored jumble of flyers spread out on the kitchen table. Arnold examined each, squinting slightly in the dim light before the lamp over head switched on. His Grandpa Phil had used the pull string to turn it on, since Arnold had not.

"Yeesh! What have I told you boy? Don't read in the dark, Arnold. You'll need bifocals! Use the lamp! You know we have one!" Grandpa Phil seated himself across the the boy, then picked up a paper in the pastel shade of blue.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa! I was just so excited I forgot!" Arnold explained. In his one hand, he held up one of the flyers, this one with a large baseball figuring prominently at the top.

"Ah, Little League teams, huh? Well, sports are healthy exercise you know! Helps you work off gas. Had any thoughts as to which one to join? You can't join them all, you know! Hm, hedge clipping? I didn't know that was a sport."

"That's an advertisement for fencing club, Grandpa! Phoebe gave it to me." Arnold took it from his hands.

"Ah, pooh!" Grandpa bluffed. "Unless you're sweet on her, go for a sport where all the eyes are on ya! A real popular sport, like football! Or basketball! Or… well, yeah, there's always your hands-down favorite," Phil said with a sly grin.

"Baseball!" Arnold grinned back with his widest smile. His eyes almost swum in the midst of his dreams and fantasies of being a baseball great like his idol Mickey Kaline.

"Yup! That's the ticket, Shortman! You join one of them clubs and you'll be out the kitchen all summer! I'll finally be able to read my newspapers somewhere besides my porcelain throne!"

"Grandpa!" Arnold admonished the man, the slip of a smile on his cheek. But Arnold bundled his papers up to stuff them in his pocket. Once they were tucked safely inside, Arnold dashed out the front door and down the steps to meet Gerald on the street. On his way, Arnold blew by past Oscar Kokoschka.

"Sorry, Mr. Kokoshka!" Arnold blurted out before he dashed away to where Gerald hailed him. The balding man brushed himself off with a loud, "harrumph," then continued on his way inside the door.

Oscar, the mischievous, some-parts-hated, and reservedly-loved neighbor in Arnold's boarding house walked into the living room first. "Hello?" the man asked. But no one was there, not even an echo. Oscar looked at the clock. Then he rubbed his hands together in glee.

"Oh, good! Three o'clock! Almost time for my poker game with the boys! Hm, but what am I going to use for the prize? Suzy made me deposit all the money from my paycheck into the bank and I haven't got time to take it back out! Oh, I know! I will just look for a brick in the basement and paint it gold!" Oscar chuckled. "It's a great plan!"

In truth, it was a terrible plan but there was no one there to tell Oscar that. Instead, the man ambled down the staircase and peered behind the washing machines. But there was no loose brick to be found.

"Oh pooh!" Oscar complained. But his ever sharp eyes spotted something which decades of boarding house residents had overlooked. The cement and mortar to a brick far to the bottom was more sand than cement, and a slightly different color. Oscar scratched the crack between the bricks with his finger and a stream of sand poured away.

"Hm, this brick seems loose!" Oscar exclaimed as he was able to put weight the brick and make it shift. "Hm, maybe I can pull it out! No one will notice!"

Oscar gripped hold of the edge of the brick and worked it side to side. It popped out with much less resistance than he had anticipated. With the brick loose, a tiny hole was exposed. Inside was a tiny bit of weathered yellow parchment. Oscar's beady eyes caught sight of the parchment immediately.

"What's this?" Oscar said. "The script's so fancy I can't read it! Oh well! It looks old. Grandpa can keep the brick. I'll just use this for the poker game." Oscar returned the brick to its hole then snuck upstairs again, no one for the wiser at the moment for his misdeeds. To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the early morning hours. A tender slip of sunlight had just begun to creep, with a vivid yellow, up onto the steps of Arnold's home, swallowing up the shadow which clung to the top steps- a remembrance of the night which was fading more and more with every sceond. With a brilliant blink, the sun hefted itself above the rooftops of Arnold's street at last, to cast all of the boulevard in its glow. The last of the morning dew and morning chill began to burn off, for it was set to be a warm morning and an even hotter afternoon in Hillwood.

In the countryside, chickens come out of their houses at this hour. But in the city, working adults come out instead, poking their heads out to get a taste of the day ahead of them, or dashing rapidly out the door in a press for time. As these morning shift workers pull their cars free of their parallel parking spaces to head for distant places, the children come out, full of breakfast and ready to set up marbles or jacks on the street.

On this, one such morning, two unsavory characters walked up the steps to the Sunset Arms Boarding House, in the company of man wearing a tweed business suit and having a face like an upside-down fish. The man in the suit rang the doorbell beside the green, wooden door to Arnold's home then waited as Arnold's grandma, Pookie, answered in her own way.

"Hello?" she said. "No, I'm sorry we don't have any halibut!"

"Hello, lady. Is your husband at home?" the strange said. "I need to speak with him."

"Oh? Is that so? Wait for him here, and I'll find the old ringmaster." She shuffled inside, then, with time, a reluctant Phil peered out the door.

"Hello? Whaddaya want?" Phil squinted at the group as he scratched his chin. "No, we don't have any rooms to let. Now scram. You're interrupting my marmalade and me.

"Um, sir, we're here to serve you this eviction notice."

"What?!" Phil spat. He stared down at the note, balled it up, then lobbed it over his shoulder. "You can't be serious. I own this house. Always have, it's been in the family for generations!"

"I'm afraid we're very serious, sir."

"What? Why?"

"Well, sir certain documents have come to light which place this house's ownership under these two personages."

"Personages, you say? Ha! Well, we'll see those two phony-balonies in court!" Phil slammed the door shut on the three people standing on the doorstep.

"What was that all about?" Pookie asked mildly.

"Oh, just bunch of scam artists or nutters. Still, I'd better make a trip downtown," Phil muttered as he hitched up his suspenders. "It's curious. Mighty curious."

Phil did take the now crumbled note downtown with him. It lay between him and his own lawyer, a plump, square-headed man with even squarer glasses between them on the desk.  
Besides the simple desk and chairs, the room had a large collection of knickknacks on one shelf, but that was it. There was not even a houseplant for dust to land upon.

"Um, hum, uh, hum. I see," the lawyer muttered as he spoke on the phone. He hung up and turned around to Phil.

"Well, sir," the lawyer said adjusting his glasses. "It stands like this. The property which you live on has had multiple deeds written on it. A hundred years or so ago, there were a total of three deeds outstanding. Each could make a legitimate claim for at least partial ownership of the property. We have on file that you own one of these paper copies of the deed. But the third one has always been unaccounted for, until now. If this copy of the deed proves older than the ones you possess, I am afraid that the eviction notice stands. You will have to challenge their claim in court, if you wish to have any chance of keeping your property."

"Baaa...ba...but how did this happen?" Phil sputtered out. "And what will I tell Arnold? I worry for us and the poor boy," Phil said with genuine sadness.

"I'll do what I can for you," said Phil's lawyer. He stood some papers upright so he could tap them against the top of his desk to straighten them out. "You should go home and get some rest. I''ll be in touch."

Bitter and dismal, Phil walked home. He shuffled home to his kitchen through the back door and might have sat down at the table if Arnold hadn't barreled in through the back door behind him, brimming with good cheer.

"Oh, hi Grandpa!" Arnold said. "What's going on? You don't look too happy."

"N...nn...nothing's going on, Shortman! Now go away, shoo, shoo! Go out and play with your little friends! I have to talk to your gram about something."

"Um, okay!" Arnold obeyed his Grandpa's wish for him to go outdoors. He floated back out the kitchen door again. The sunny yard was a luxurious green today, and beyond their wooden fence on the sidewalk, other kids Arnold's age might be found.

"Oh, hey Arnold," said Sid mildly. "You coming to tryouts today?"

"You bet I am!" Arnold nearly stood up on his toes as he leaned forward with anticipation.

Sid, Harold, and Arnold made their way to the football tryouts. A curl-nosed man sniffed at the three boys as they made their way over to him. "Names," he said.

"Sid, Harold, and oh, I'm Arnold," Arnold spoke up happily. Then curl-nosed man sniffed loudly.

"Wait till you're called. Then you can try out." They waited. Then the time came.

"Sid?" the coach called. "Pass the ball to Elroy."

"Here ya go!" said Sid. The ball made a funny curve before dropping. The man wrote on his clipboard.

"Fail! Harold, you try tackling this dummy over here!" Though his face was doubtful, Harold did as he was asked.

"Pass! You're on the team, kid!"

"What about me?" Arnold asked humbly.

"Ha! Nice try, kid!" the man laughed. "This team is for fifth graders."

"I AM am fifth grader," Arnold leered. Some time had passed since those days when Helga had first started crushing on him.

"Ha! Nice try kid, but I don't believe that for a moment." Arnold stomped away.

"Aw, don't worry, Arnold!" said Sid. He held up a poster. "There's always soccer! My favorite sport! Besides riding hobby horses."

"Sid, I'm not sure I have the same passion as you do for soccer. You know baseball's my favorite sport."

"Ah, well, try it anyway, Arnold!" advised Sid. "I'll go over all the rules with you, so you know everything!"

"Well, okay Sid," Arnold agreed.

But things didn't go too well on the soccer filed, either. Coach Tish blew a whistle sharply. Then she pointed a finger at Sid.

"Alright, kid. You're in. But you, Arnold, I'm sorry, you're out."

"But why?!" Arnold glared.

"Too slow. Now please move off the field." Arnold glared down at the ground as if he might make it explode along with his temper.

Arnold was marching home back to the boarding house when he encountered Stinky. The boy with the southern drawl but goth cuffs was carrying a basketball in his hands. He tucked it under his arms as Arnold drew nearer.

"Say, Arnold," said Stinky. "Have some time 'fer a little one-on-one?

"Hm. I guess so, Stinky," Arnold said, cheering up slightly. Arnold stopped his glaring to follow Stinky to the local basketball court, tucked between buildings in the neighborhood. Arnold and Stinky shot a few hoops. Then some older kids arrived.

"Ah, move over!" One of the older, taller, and meaner looking kids said. "We wanna use the court!"

"Ah, Ben, let them play. Or at least the tall one. Let the shrimpy kid watch." The older kids chuckled then, and Arnold's face took back it's glare with a new touch of disgust. He stomped all the way home.

"Grandpa?" Arnold called into his home with all the desperation of a dog who got his tail licked between his legs. "You home?"

"Ah, er, yes Arnold!" Grandpa Phil said awkwardly. He peered around the corner anxiously.

"Oh, hi, Grandpa," Arnold said forgetting his wrath to be puzzled by his Grandpa. He seemed so nervous. "Is something going on?"

"Nah, nah, no, Arnold! Of course not!" Phil coughed. "Now if you need me, I'm going to sell all our household possessions and collect all the boarder's rent early. Thank you." Arnold blinked.

"Ah, is Grandpa feeling sick?" Arnold asked Ernie as the man rummaged through the fridge to retrieve a hoagie sandwich. Ernie stuffed it into his work lunchbox, along with a thermos. As Arnold watched, he latched the lunchbox shut.

"Nah, but he sure is feeling jumpy!" Ernie complained. "He's yelled, 'Don't open the door,' like five times this morning. Oh well, I've gotta finish getting ready for work!" Ernie donned his work hat. Arnold watched the man head for another room of the house.

Phil stewed in his living room. What was he to do? Just then, he heard Mr. Kokoschka speaking to two guys on the street.

"Oh, Clipper and Earl. What are you two doing here? Do you want to have our weekly card game early? If you come up, I won't tell you Susie you were here."

"Nah!" one of the two said with a snide laugh. "We'd better not go in there yet. Things are… eh, complicated."

"Yeah, complicated!"

"And how is that?" Oscar asked, his hands curled on his windowsill.

"Ah,ha,ha!" the balding man with the gray sweater laughed with malice. He turned to regard his taller, bulkier, muscled friend with a lopsided face. "Oh don't worry, Oscar! You'll be seeing lots of us soon, seeing as how we'll be your new landlord!"

"And how is that?" Oscar wheedled.

"On account of how valuable that piece of paper you lost gambling with us last week was!"

"Shhh!" The shorter man received a jab and a shush from his companion. Then both slunk away. Oscar's front door to his apartment popped open.

"Oscar! We heard the whole thing!" Ernie declared. Work hat still on his head, the man had not left for work yet. He had only been headed out the door when, he, too had overheard the conversation.

"You are not a good man, Ernie! You are not a good man at all!" Mr. Hyunh glared.

"Oscar, you weasel!" Phil shook his fist from behind them. "I should've tossed you outta this house a long time ago!"

"I didn't know it was valuable, honest!" Oscar wheedled. "I thought it was only a teeny, tiny scrap of paper!"

"Hyun?" Ernie looked up his fellow, longtime boarder.

"Yes, let's get him!"

Oscar got the tied to a chair treatment. He was still captive bound when his wife, Susie came home, but she, too, felt little impulse to free him from the chair. Instead, she gave him a good, well-deserved yell.

"What were you thinking, Oscar?!" Susie scolded with fury. "How could you do this to Grandpa Phil? To all of us? I'm so ashamed of you!"

"Yes, yes. I realize what I did was wrong and I'm sorry. So you can send me sleeping with the fishes or you can untie me from this chair and I will help you get Grandpa's deed back."

"You will? How?" his wife blinked, astonished. Could Oscar possibly have something useful up his sleeve.

"Nah-ah!" sniffed Ernie. "You don't get untied from this chair until AFTER you spill. So what's the nope?"

"Well, the cope is that clipper and Earl are going to make a trip to Vegas next weekend. So I can call them up and invite myself to join them for a friendly game of cards. With a friend."

"I'll do it!" Phil spoke up, catching on immediately. "It's a slim chance, but I might get lucky. After all, that's how my great, great grandfather earned this building in the first place. He won it in a card game. But if this plan fails, it's plan B. We drag this dumbbell into court and make him spill all he did." Grandpa lifted Oscar's upside down and gave it a little shake.

"Okay, okay!" Oscar blurted out. "Take it easy! I'll call them right now!"

Mr. Hyunh dialed the phone and placed it in Oscar's hands. It rang, then picked up. A tiny voice spoke at the other end.

"Oh, hello buddy? I just wanted you to know I won a ticket to Vegas at a raffle and I'll be joining you next weekend. We should hook up and play. Oh, and be sure to bring something VALUABLE for you to gamble with. I'll be bringing my family's most sacred relics. Oh, an autographed copy of Babel Ruth baseball card. It must be worth a million or so. See you there!" Ernie hung up the phone for Oscar, since he could not reach far beyond his ropes.

"Okay, it's set! Now will you please untie me now?"

"That's right, Ernie," Susie said a little too sweetly. "Will you please untie him now. Oscar and I have a little something to discuss."

"On second thought, Ernie, friend," Oscar said. "You'd better leave me tied up instead!" Susie did not look too pleased with him at all.

The appointed weekend came. Phil stepped out of the house, one suitcase under each arm and a straw hat with a bright red and orange band on his head. He wore a vacationer's short and shorts, bu this was anything but a vacation.

"Okay, ya little mealworm!" Phil announced at the door. "You'd better come with me!"

"Please don't leave, Grandpa! Don't leave me alone with Susie!" the cringing man said as he crept out of the front door after Phil to catch up with him.

"Alright! Here we are! Now we just gotta drive to the airport, and wah?! What are you doing in the car, Pookie? I thought you were going to stay home and watch Arnold."

"Ah, we'll watch him, right Hyunh," Ernie consoled him.

"Right!" their Vietnamese friend nodded with severity.

"Well, alright," Phil relented. "But remember, don't tell him we might loose the house!" Phil pointed sternly.

"Sure thing, Gramps."

"Yes, Grandpa!" Phil started up the car engine. Pookie began to wave her pom-poms and they were off for an adventure.


	3. Chapter 3

**I need to check on the names of two characters by rewatching an episode, but I am calling the two, petty, criminal friends of Oscar, "Clipper and Earl" for now until I can make sure I'm not remembering the wrong names. Pookie says these names in the episode where Phil's Packard is stolen. And she sits on them. Also, Gakuto1991 wished to see Miriam and Susie as friends in this one. Request granted. The J.A.M. a.k.a. Numbuh i wished to see Oscar thrown out after this. Request almost granted. I give Oscar a REALLY hard time instead. ;)**

"Ah, Vegas! City of bright lights and people working themselves into debt problems," Grandpa Phil sniffed. "Now remember, Pookie, we can't spend much! We've got to save our pennies for gas for the roadtrip home."

"That's okay, Phil!" Pookie said with glee. "I can always try out to be a dancing girl! Ah, one, two, three!" Pookie kicked her heels up while Phil rolled his eyes.

"And that goes double for you, Oscar." Phil narrowed his eyes at the man. "The only thing you get to eat from now on is bread, water, and plain-flavored oatmeal."

"That's alright, Grandpa!" Oscar grinned with hopes of making peace. "I can show you the sights! That is, I could have if I'd ever been here before."

"Hm, you haven't? I haven't either, come to think of it. Not since I helped build Hoover Dam," said Phil. He scratched his chin, then looked up as if by doing so he might be able to see a thought in his brain as clearly as the green grass. "Well, first things first, then! We tour! Might as well have some fun before our lives all go down the commode!"

"That's the spirit, Grandpa!" Oscar grinned.

"Say cheese!" said Grandma. She held up a camera to take a picture. Then, asking random passersby to take a picture for them on their aged camera, the three from Hillwood posed in front of dancing fountains, beside rocky red cliffs, before glitzy neon signs, beside a fake Elvis, and in a backlit lounge. Last of all, they took a photo of Phil making a muscle as he stood near Hoover Dam, as if implying he had built it all himself. Then they all made their way to Caesar's Palace to sit at a table. Pookie wore a fancy, sparkling dress.

"Ah, there they are!" Oscar pointed out the two men standing at one of the other game tables. "Clipper and Earl. Even if they are wearing fancy suits, I'd recognize them anywhere!"

"Clipper and Earl, eh?" Phil narrowed his eyes. He stood up tall, proud and determined. He shoved the chair he had been seated in back to the table with some force, then strode powerfully to the two.

"Clipper and Earl!" Grandpa Phil challenged. "Funny meeting you here! A fateful meeting, I'd say!"

"Ah, what do you want? Bitter grapes for how we've got the deed to toss ya out of the boarding house?"

"Ha!" Phil barked out a laugh as he jabbed a finger near to the taller man's nose. He looked them in the eye, cold hard and steely like his nickname. "I'm onto ya two crooks and I know what you did! And I'll have it out in court if need be and I'll send ya home cryin' to your mamma! Or we can settle this thing like men, though I doubt you've got the guts for it. A poker match, one-on-one for the deed. Winner takes all! If you've got the mettle."

"A poker game? What for? We have the deed," Earl stated boldly. Yet doubt interlaced his words.

"Ha! You STOLE a deed and I have everything I need to prove it! Now the three of you can go to jail- you, him, and Oscar…."

"Hey!" Oscar objected with a grimace.

"Or you can play me for it. If I win, I keep my boarding house. If you win, I'll pack up and ship out, no grudge made."

"You'd really do such thing? You're crazy!"

"Not entirely. It's more accurate to say that when I find crazy, I marry it." Phil gestured to Pookie. "But I mean what I say."

"Alright! We'll reserve a table for an officiated game tonight!" one of the two men said.

"You're on! Now shake on it! I'll see you at seven o'clock, sharp!"

"Deal!" Phil looked his gravest. But as the two men moved away, he heaved a sigh of relief.

"Well, that's good. I doubt I could'da afforded all those lawyer fees. But we've got a real shot now."

"Do you think we can win, Grandpa?" Oscar fidgeted.

"I think so," Grandpa said. "But I'd better play some refresher games to practice."

"Hey, what's that over there? Isn't that... Susie?" Oscar squinted. Sure enough, it was Susie, his wife, dressed up in sparkling sequins. She stood next to a woman in a red dress trimmed with fur on the shoulders- Miriam Pataki. Yet neither of the two women stood alone. Besides laughing and talking between themselves, they were surrounded by five young and stunningly handsome guys in suits.

"Teeheehee!" Susie chuckled.

"Ah, you guys are all the best!" Miriam grinned. "Now, who wants to watch me roll the dice again?" Miriam said with cheerful enthusiasm.

"Susie, what are you doing?!" Oscar asked his wife with horror as he walked up to them. Susie gave her eyes a guilty swish.

"Ah, well, my friend MIRIAM here called me up and invited me to go on a trip as a traveling companion of hers and so I said, hey, what the heck, I'll take a little vacation time off." Susie snickered softly.

"Ah, but Susie, who are all these strange men?" Oscar fumbled with dread. Phil strode up next to Oscar and laid his hand on the shoulder of his corrupt, long-time acquaintance.

"Sorry to disturb all you lovely ladies in your fun. We'll have to catch up with you later, Susie, but we've got work to do."

"Hey!" Oscar lamented as Phil dragged him off.

Pookie, Phil, and Oscar sat down in a very inexpensive hotel. They practiced cards there, surrounded by a background of brochures instead of the real casinos, then at picnic tables and park benches. At last, they were ready, so they went back to the casino. As they strode in, Miriam greeted them by the entrance.

"Oh, hello Phil! I'm so sorry. Susie told me all about your little problem." Susie tilted her head in a sympathetic way as she regarded the old man.

"It's not a problem," Grandpa Phil declared, "because I'm going to win it all back now. I'll win the boarding house, just like my great-grandpa before me!"

"Oh, ah sounds exciting! Mind if we watch?"

"Well, okay. Just do me a favor and keep wearing those beautiful dresses. I need all the lady luck I can get."

Phil filed into a room with a table surrounded by people employed by the casino. With a grim frown, he lowered himself into a chair opposite of Clipper and Earl.

"So which one of you are playing?"

"Actually, we both are!" the taller man with the tattoo rumbled out.

"In that case, Oscar get in here! You might have a snowball's chance of winning, anyway."

"Okay, Grandpa!" Oscar took his seat. Pookie sat down at the table at the same time. Phil jerked his head around.

"Pookie? What are you doing here? This isn't go-fish!"

"Ah, but Phil! I wanna play, too!" his old, dementia-struck wife blinked.

"Ah, let her play," Earl laughed. "She doesn't understand anything what's goin' on."

"Yeah, let's get this show on the road!" Clipper said with a mean leer.

A professional dealer dealt the cards. Everyone looked down at them. Sweat beaded on Grandpa Phil's forehead. But he played some time before Oscar lay down his personal set of cards.

"I win!" Oscar said, enthused.

"No you don't, you lose."

"Oh, pooh," Oscar said, demoralised. "I lost? Ah well, time for some snacks. I'll just be going."

"Oh, no you aren't going anywhere you little worm! Now where was I?" Phil looked back at his cards. His forehead beaded up with sweat as he played, but Clipper and Earl began to look pressed as well. Both became more and more nervous.

"All right, read 'em and weep!" Earl spread his cards down on the table. Clipper threw down his as well.

"Yeah, what he said!" the larger, burly man declared. With sorrow, Phil lay his own cards on the tabletop.

"Ah, well," Phil said with deep misery. "It looks like I lose. I'm a few points off."

"Go fish!" Pookie said. "I'll take the lobster and halibut!" With glee, she slapped her hand of cards down on the table top. Phil's eyes bulged.

"Pookie! That's four aces! How long have you been holding onto those?!"

"Not sure. Where's my halibut?"

"Ah, well, despite the rambling, you did it Pookie! We keep the house!"

"Oh. Where did you put it in the first place?"

"Never mind. Alright, fair's fair! Hand over the deed!" Clipper glumly handed Phil the piece of yellow, faded parchment paper to Phil.

"We did it, Grandpa!" Oscar cheered. "We get to stay in Hillwood. You got back your deed to the boarding house!"

"The deed? Oh that!" Pookie exclaimed mildly "Here you go! I found a copy when I was cleaning!" Pookie offered it to Phil. He took the page, then squinted down at the document in his hand.

"Say, this one looks older than the other two. Why didn't you give this to me earlier? We could have avoided this whole hassle!"

"Oh. I wanted to see Vegas, too."

"That's the most sensible thing you've said all day," Phil said as he tucked both deeds into his shirt pocket. "Now let's get out of here and go home. Susie, it was nice running into you and all. We'll see you in Hillwood."

"Actually," Susie said with deep hesitation. Her eyes flickered back with determination and shame in equal parts. "Since you're here, there's something I needed to talk to Oscar about. I won't be coming home. Here. I need you to sign these."

"What are these, sweetheart?" Oscar looked down at the rumple of papers in his hand.

"Divorce papers. I need you to sign them for me, please. You see, I've met a really fantastic man- Antonio Magestigo- here and we're going to be married tomorrow."

"But sweetie! Whatever did I do to make you so angry?!" Oscar pleaded.

"Oh, you know why Oscar!" Susie said with cold fury.

"Hm, so you aren't coming back to the boarding house?" Grandpa Phil said neutrally. "Can we come to the wedding tomorrow?"

"Of course, Phil!" Susie said warmly.

The next day dawned. Phil and Pookie were dressed their best but Oscar was a crumpled mess lurking behind Phil. He kept sniffing in the distance.

The groom was very young, very tall, deeply chiseled jawed man. When he opened his mouth to smile at Phil and Pookie, light glittered off his flawless teeth. He had a tight butt, muscular abs, and shiny hair to boot.

"Whoa. Seems Susie has found herself a perfect specimen." Phil observed. His words made Oscar only sniff all the louder. Susie came out of the back wearing a white wedding gown. She was about to approach a flower strewn alter when she heard a loud sniff. She looked up to see Oscar crying behind Phil, his face puffy and red.

"Ah, Oscar!" Susie scolded him with a tsk. "What are you doing here?!"

"Sweetie," Oscar mumbled. "Are you really going to marry this man? What about me? Who is going to scold me if you aren't there anymore?"

"I… I don't know," Susie said. She gave the altar a long look. She looked back to the man she had been trying to get away from. Then, with a snap, she threw the wedding bouquet in her hands down to the floor and rushed over to Oscar to scoop him up in her arms.

"Oh, Oscar!" Susie said snuggling his forehead with her nose. "I'll forgive you! But you must promise me never to do that again!"

"I won't!" Oscar pleaded. "I will always be good and you'll always have reason to be proud of me! I won't play mean tricks on Grandpa like that again, I swear!"

"Ah, well," said Grandpa Phil with disappointment. "Maybe they'll still let me have a slice of cake?"

The trip to Vegas was over. Susie parted ways with Miriam to ride back to Hillwood in Phil's green Packard. She sat in the backseat with Oscar seated sideways on her lap. She nuzzled Oscar on the head again, her arms around him, then spoke.

"Ah, Oscar! We'll make things work!"

"Yes, that's right!" Oscar pleaded. "I'll never be naughty again! And I won't play cards with Clipper and Earl!"

"Like there's fat chance that I'll let them in the boarding house again," Phil muttered under his breath. "Oh well, that was a good trip! I've got great pictures! But are you really sure about ditching that Magestigo character?"

"I'm fine," Susie muttered. "He did seem like the perfect man…"

"Hm, hm? No sympathy from me. You had your chance, lady," said Phil lowering his nose to his steering wheel as he drove it.

"But I have Oscar and that will have to be good enough for me!"

"Phil, wind the window down!" Pookie complained. "The car smells like rotten halibut!"

"I'm sure it does," Phil whispered under his breath to Pookie. "I think we'll be stuck with these two wacky boarders for a while."

Phil drove the Packard on the way home to Hillwood. But back in Hillwood itself, Arnold's mind was on sports. He shook hands with a coach for a local baseball team for kids.

"Welcome to the team, Arnold!" she said. "You'll be a fantastic addition!"

"Thanks!" the boy said before hurrying back to the bench. He sat down next to Gerald.

"You see! I told you, you were worrying about nothing! You got onto the team, no problem!" Gerald said, proud to be correct once again.

"Yeah, you're right Gerald. Still, I'm glad!" Arnold remarked scrunching up his brows. "You know, after all those people started to call me small and slow and short, I guess I began to have doubts in myself."

"Nah-ah!" Gerald declared firmly. "Everyone deserves to play sports, and you aren't no sham when it comes to baseball. You're a heavy-hitter! You're a mean frisbee player, too!"

"And I'm good at checkers!" Arnold grinned.

"You got it!" Gerald quipped. "That's the right attitude, my friend! The right attitude!"

Arnold and Gerald walked over to Vine Street next. They sat down on the stoop of Arnold's home to relax. The two best friends were rather wordless until other children began to gather on the street corner. It was the mysterious ritual caused by a very basic thing. They expected the Jolly Olly man to stop by Arnold's house, as he did on afternoons. When the window to the moving shop rolled up, kids rushed up to buy ice cream at the counter. It did not take long for Arnold and Gerald to get the same idea.

"Now to celebrate, I think we all should go over and buy some popsicles!" Gerald pointed to a Jolly Olly Icecream truck parked down the street. The two boys ambled over to it. "It's my treat today! Gerald pulled out a folded bill.

Arnold and Gerald stood on the corner, gobbling down their popsicles. Soon, they stared down at the empty wooden sticks- all that remained of their snacks.

"Another one?" Arnold asked.

"Yeah!" Gerald agreed firmly. Arnold and Gerald both held up their money for a second popsicle to eat. This time, instead of gobbling food down where they stood, they took their time to eat.

The two boys were relaxing and enjoying the city sights when Helga G. Pataki pranced up. She, too, must have visited the Jolly Olly truck, for she had a nearly finished icecream cone in hand.

"Oh, hey Helga," Arnold spoke calmly as the girl placed one hand at her hip and held and an almost icecreamless, half-melted cone in the other.

"Hi, Arnoldo," Helga spoke with comfort as no other kids were within easy earshot. "I heard you made the boy's summer team!"

"Yup," Arnold said, a little proud of himself. "I did!"

"You don't seem as happy about it as I'd expect you to be," Gerald observed compassionately. "What's up?".

"Oh, nothing Gerald," Arnold said. He took one last lick of his second popsicle. Then he waved his one, free hand as he spoke. "To be honest, I'm a little worried about Grandpa. He's taking a sudden trip away from home and no one will tell me what for! So I worry that he's sick or something. I guess thinking about that kinda ruins my appetite a bit. Here, Helga do you want the rest of my popsicle?" Arnold asked. He held the sticky, dripping, fruit-flavored bar up for a gift.

"Sure! If you don't want it!" Helga beamed. She reached for the watery mess intent on taking it from Arnold's hand, then gulping it down.

"I'm not sick, Arnold!" Phil said flinging the front door open to startle the two boys. "I've never been better!"

"Whoohoo!" Pookie cackled as she waved her pompoms. "Now that was a good roadtrip!"

"Grandma, Grandpa! You're back!" Arnold hopped to his feet. Then in one swift move, he jammed his half-eaten, dripping popsicle into Helga's mouth. Helga fell off the stoop in shock.

"Of course we are Arnold! And I feel like a million bucks! This house looks like a million bucks, too!"

"Uh, Grandpa?" asked Arnold. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Sure I am, Arnold! Let me tell you about my vacation!" Phil led Arnold into the boarding house. As the green boarding house door closed shut, Helga pulled the popsicle free of her mouth from where she had landed, tipped sideways. With a firm frown, Gerald watched her silently from the top step of the stoop. That had been weird and there was nothing else to say about that. The end.


End file.
